


Emotional Encounters

by fingerscrossed_tryingsomethingnew



Series: I'm Gonna Love You (Like I'm Gonna Lose You) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Avenger Reader (Marvel), F/M, Mild Smut, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark is Good With Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingerscrossed_tryingsomethingnew/pseuds/fingerscrossed_tryingsomethingnew
Summary: Bucky gets severely injured during a mission and is quarantined for surgery and recovery. Steve doesn't take it well, but his good friend, the Reader, is there to comfort him.And when the Reader needs someone to turn to, Tony is there for her.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts & Reader, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Reader, Tony Stark & Reader
Series: I'm Gonna Love You (Like I'm Gonna Lose You) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752376
Kudos: 30





	1. Close Encounters of the Comforting Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Reader was recruited for the Avengers by Tony and Steve years ago because of her ability to influence emotion (through electrochemical signaling, explains the Reader’s reaction). 
> 
> Also- no idea where this would fit in the MCU timeline (or if it even could) but Thanos didn’t happen yet.

Y/N pressed her face to Steve’s chest, gripping him tightly. “Breathe, Steve.”

Steve slid down to the ground, back against the wall; he took her down with him, so she was sitting half on his lap as he nearly tugged his hair out, eyes glassy and unfocused.

She had meant to tuck Steve into his bed and sit with him until he fell into a restless sleep; it was supposed to be the same routine as every other rough mission, but he had nearly stopped breathing the second the door to his bedroom swung shut.

“We got him out. We got Bucky _out_ , Steve. Dr. Cho said all he needs is time to heal. This isn’t like the train. _Breathe,_ ” Y/N reminded him. He still wouldn’t look at her, and she could feel his panic surging into her, like massive, thunderous waves pulling him under– inescapable.

She abandoned all pretense and crawled all the way into his lap, taking one hand slowly from his hair, then the other. She grasped them both tightly despite the dried blood, dirt, and grime that darkened his fingers and hands. “He’ll be okay. Because of you, Stevie.”

Steve’s breaths still came out in short, irregular bursts, stuttering every so often. His question was a whimper. “Bucky’s– Bucky’s safe?”

Her heart broke for this man who had lost so much– _too_ much. The man out of time, one of the world’s mightiest defenders. When would the universe stop _taking_ from him?

She nodded softly before lifting her head from his chest to peer right into his baby blue eyes. “Yeah, Stevie, Bucky’s safe now. You saved him.”

Y/N wished with every fiber of her being that she could use her abilities to wrap him in calmness, allow him to drift in a sea of tranquility, but that was overstepping in every way imaginable. Steve needed to learn to cope on his own. Instead, she clasped his hand in hers and pressed it against her heart.

As he took in the vibrations and the regular beats, his shoulders lost some of their tension, and he stopped clenching his jaw so tightly that he might have broken a tooth. His eyes were still troubled, dimmer than usual.

She raised a hand– the one that wasn’t pressing one of his to her heart– to his cheek, brushing her thumb across his cheekbone like he does for her when she cries. “He’s okay,” she repeated softly. “ _You’re_ okay.”

Steve’s other hand, that had been resting limply at his side, came to her waist. His fingers trailed up and down her side in what she supposed Steve thought was comforting or grateful. It makes her breath hitch for a moment, and she catches her lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

She has spent so much time trying to forget that it’s become natural, that when the dam breaks occasionally, she’s surprised by her own feelings. It’s like she’s experiencing with renewed vigor her attraction for the man in front of her. It sends a shiver down her spine– how much she wants to run her hands along his chest, feel his lips underneath her ear. Heat pools in her core and between her legs, and she bites down on her lip again, _harder_ this time, because this is _not_ the time for these feelings.

She shrugs them off, building up the dam in her mind once again to contain the desperate need that nearly escaped her. When she’s done, it should turn off like a tap.

But it doesn’t. Unlike every other time she’s pushed it away, the want is still clawing at her chest, flooding through her veins. She’s so flushed with it that she thinks she might be _burning_ for Steve.

Steve’s hand had tightened and stilled at her side. His hand against her heart is so large that it spans the width of her chest, and his thumb begins to move back and forth against her collar bone. His eyes flickered down to her lips once– twice, three times– before they rest there.

Like falling asleep– slowly, and then all at once– she realizes that it’s _him_. She _had_ hidden away the lust and attraction; this was Steve’s heat, his _hunger_ , rushing into her, causing her heartbeat to quicken.

Steve’s hand on her chest slides up to release her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t,” he rasps, his voice low and gravelly. He swipes the pad of his thumb against her lower lip as if he could brush away the sting. He lowers his face to hers, coming so close that their lips almost touch.

“I need…” He sighs, not sure what to say.

She feels a whisper of a kiss in the way his lips brush against hers as he tries to speak. She can hear the plea loud and clear, without a single word.

Y/N closes the infinitesimal distance between them, their lips meeting, soft and pliant. She allows the dam to fall apart, and the aching need for Steve floods through her once again, racing to her core. Her hands on his back tighten, clutching his shirt.

Steve’s hands are tangled firmly in her hair in a way that makes every cell in her body hum with anticipation. She pulls back for a moment panting, her eyes searching his, asking.

His eyes are hooded and dark, his pupils wide. They’re cloudy with lust, but there’s no hesitation. “Please,” he pleads hoarsely.

She pauses for a moment, still studying him, but something in his eyes must have convinced her. A moment later, Y/N’s hands work their way into his hair, and she tugs him back down toward her lips.

Steve puts a hand under each of her thighs as she straddles him and pulls them up into a standing position. He savors the moment against the wall as she gasps into his mouth, legs locked around his waist.

Most of him is shrouded in guilt and misery– for not getting to Bucky sooner, for giving him the orders that took him there in the first place, for failing his best friend. But another part of him, the part of him that has craved touching her since this stunning dame called him “Captain Rogers” in a boathouse, can think of nothing else but the way her body slides against his. And isn’t that exactly what he asked for?

She drops her legs to the ground, and he’s puzzled, scared even, but if she wants to stop, he’ll let her go. She fixes him with a coy look and runs her hands over his chest. Her hands still against his ribs, and he swears that he’s on fire, but he wants more. He shrugs out of the top of the stealth suit, staring transfixed as she presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across his chest, lower and lower. Her small hands make quick work of the belt, and she nearly rips the rest of the suit from his body.

She drops to her knees in front of him, and Steve holds back a moan as her fingers dance across the band of his boxer-briefs. She teases him, brushing against his arousal through the soft material, but she makes no move to grasp him.

He looks down at her, face stern, and he swears he hears her whimper before his last article of clothing falls to the floor. Between one breath and the next, her hands are clasped around his length, and Steve watches as her tongue swipes across the slit at the tip. Steve hisses, teeth clenched together.

She takes him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his tip, inching the entire length of him into her throat. Steve collapses back against the wall, letting it support his weight before his knees buckle. His hand unconsciously finds its way back into her hair, tugging slightly. She lets out a moan around his cock in her throat.

Steve’s eyes nearly roll back into his head, and he’s not in control of his body when his hips snap forward, plunging him deeper into her throat. She allows the hand that wasn’t working furiously at his cock to roll and tug at his balls; Steve’s hips snap forward again, and he thinks he hisses out some sort of garbled apology. She looks up at him, meeting his eyes with her lips wrapped around his member as it slides in and out of her mouth, twitching.

One of her hands digs into his ass, thrusting him forward roughly into her mouth, again and again. She encourages him with a hum as he picks up speed, fucking her talented mouth, even going so far as to slide a finger into him, pressing against something inside him that makes his head snap back so fast that he dents the wall. She hollows her cheeks and sucks, feeling his hand tighten in her hair; he nearly growls as he empties everything into her mouth: his orgasm, his frustration, his guilt, his misery.

As she stands up and wipes at her lips with a finger, he backs her toward the bed, not nearly through with her.

* * *

She’s sated after their third go-around, but Steve’s stamina is unparalleled. She knew the point of this encounter wasn’t intimacy, and it wasn’t to satisfy her needs, so she shrugs off the bone-deep weariness and clambers on top of him. She sinks on to him slowly, only managing to roll her hips once or twice before Steve pulls out of her.

He’s slightly rougher with her, willing to truly lose himself in the encounter now that he knows she won’t break when he applies a little pressure. He centers Y/N in front of him and bends her over the vanity before he plunges into her from behind, his eyes locking with hers in the mirror. She meets him enthusiastically thrust for thrust.

His fingers grip her his roughly enough that she’ll have bruises in the shape of his hand tomorrow, but Steve can’t find it in him to care as she arches back into him, moaning.

She’s scalding to the touch beneath him, but he can’t stop chasing the physical release, the emotional release. Steve feels himself nearing the edge again, so he shifts his hand forward, between her legs, not stopping his relentless, nearly punishing pace.

Y/N throws her head back, her eyes rolling back as Steve’s fingers find her clit, rubbing her closer to orgasm at a bruising pace. She thought she was shaking from the pleasure, but she thinks she might actually be _vibrating_ at this point.

It’s like he’s fucking everything that he is into her as he comes with a groan, muffling himself by biting the skin where her neck meets her shoulder. He triggers her orgasm, not stopping his fingers from dancing across her clit even as she settles her forehead against the vanity counter, nearly sobbing.

Steve feels empty of everything; he’s raw but calm and steady. He brushes a kiss against Y/N’s shoulder, murmurs a silent “thank you” against her skin, with his eyes closed and slips into his bed, foregoing a shower.

  
Y/N wants to lay down next to him with her head on his chest and comfort him. She wants to be able to brush back his tousled hair that’s matted against his forehead, sticky with sweat from exertion. She wants to let him hear her heartbeat, allow it to lull him to sleep.

But she can’t do any of that. She’s about to combust; her whole body is vibrating with every emotion that Steve had been pulsing with just moments ago. Y/N slips on her sports bra and her mission suit, abandoning her tattered underwear.

“You’re going?” Steve questions from the bed. He doesn’t even have the energy to open his eyes to see her nod. She thinks that maybe if he did, he might even be a little hurt.

“Yeah–” She clears her throat so that her voice isn’t quite as shaky. “Yeah, I’m gonna shower and make sure Tony gets to bed. Maybe I’ll slip back in here later.”

She thinks he might hum his assent, but she phases out of the room so quickly that she doesn’t even hear it.

* * *

She phases into her training bunker in Malibu (something her parents constructed when she was 12 to contain her after _Almunaqadh_ tortured and experimented on her), and she explodes. She’s not exactly sure how her consciousness still exists when she’s broken down into particles that span the room, combusting again and again.

The pleasure, the misery, the guilt, the ecstasy, the worry, hers, Steve’s– it was too much. She could feel herself tearing the bunker to shreds in her current state, but she needs to expend the energy that built up before she reforms so that she’s stable.

She supposes that reforming is a sort of deposition because she pictures this excited state of her molecules to be somewhat like a gas (a gas that’s able to cause extensive damage if she’s not in control). As she reforms, mission suit and all, she takes a moment to analyze what had just happened; she’s partially a scientist after all, and everything can be explained with science.

  
Y/N hadn’t needed this bunker since her freshman year of college, after losing her virginity to her boyfriend and nearly exploding in the room, just like tonight. Sex, she learned, transmitted emotions (more importantly, electrochemical signals) like nothing else. She had come a long way since then, learned to release some of the emotions back to her partner in small increments.

But tonight…tonight, she had been focused on bottling up everything that Steve fucked into her. If that was the only way she could help him, then, of course, it’s worth a small tantrum in an underground room.

Her cellphone rang in the silent room, startling her. She accepted the call, putting the phone up to her ear.

“Tell me my tech is malfunctioning, and you’re not across the fucking country right now.” Tony’s voice was dry with sarcasm, but the fact that he had even called belied his concern.

She could feel that she was stabilized, so she took a deep breath and phased into the lab at the compound, just a few feet behind Tony. “Okay,” Y/N replied, hanging up. “Your tech is malfunctioning, and I’m not across the country.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Tony swore, nearly dropping a torsion wrench. “What? Do I have to write you a memo to remind you to never do that again? Jesus, at least phase-in in front of me.”

“Yup, go ahead and write me that memo.” Y/N nodded, strolling forward to stand next to him.

“You called my bluff. I’m allergic to writing memos,” Tony joked, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close. “Why do you think Pepper got the company?”

Y/N laid her chin on his shoulder, hugging him back just as tightly. She felt like a child, wrapped up in their father’s arms– an experience she couldn’t even remember with her own father. This, _Tony_ , was as close to a father as she ever got.

She sniffled. “Tony, do you really think Bucky’s gonna be okay?” She sounded so small, delicate.

She felt his grasp around her tighten, and one of his hands carded gently through her hair. “Yeah, kiddo, he’s gonna be just fine.”

Maybe it was the fact that Tony was the one she wanted to go to when she messed up, that he was so willing to drop what he was doing to comfort her. Maybe it was the way he called her “kiddo” without being condescending or that he tracks her phasing to make sure she doesn’t accidentally shift in her sleep again. Maybe it’s the way he consoles her about her friend, the man who had murdered his parents, without hesitation. Whatever it is, she’s never been more thankful for Tony than she is right then.

“Love you, Tony,” she mumbled against his shoulder, but the way his hand paused in her hair before starting again told her that he’d heard. She leaned back for a moment so that she could see his face. “That’s– I, um…” He was patient while she fumbled through the words. “I never said that to my dad.”  
  
She wasn’t sure if he grasped what she was saying until he pressed a kiss to her hair before nestling her head back into his shoulder as if he could protect her from the world that way. “Love you, too, _piccolina_.”

Y/N had sensed Pepper’s presence the moment she had entered the lab, picking up on the unique base emotions that she always seemed to carry with her in her own way. She was still surprised to feel Pepper’s hand replace Tony’s before he passed her off to Pepper entirely.

Y/N nestled into Pepper’s shoulder, imagining a life where she called Pepper and Tony “Mom and Dad,” a life where she was always loved and cared for. They would never have locked her in a bunker. They would’ve put a stop to _Almunaqadh._ She couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from her lips. “I love you, Pep. I wish you guys were my family,” she whispered.

Tony was back at her side in a moment, one arm wrapped around her and one around Pepper. Pepper swiped a tear from under your eye before she replied. “I love you too, sweetie,” she said with a soft smile, her voice almost musical. “We’re your family in every way that matters.”

An hour later, after showering and making sure Tony was leaving the lab to join Pepper upstairs, Y/N slipped back into Steve’s room. The room still smelled like sex, and Steve was no cleaner than when she had left him. She slid into the bed next to him, pillowing her head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist; he shifted unconsciously to place a hand on her head.

She could be there for him. She would be there for him.


	2. A Brief Encounter (with your Best Friend)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, Tony is very good at giving out advice about encounters of the sexual kind. 
> 
> Or, Reader realizes that her father-figure, Tony, is also one of her best friends.

Y/N slid out of Steve’s arms early in the morning, rising with the sun. She had instructed FRIDAY to shut off Steve’s ridiculously early alarm, allowing him to get some well-deserved rest, but she had been restless all night. While they hadn’t got any updates about Bucky, aside from the fact that he _still_ wasn’t allowed any visitors, Y/N dropped by his room. She pressed a hand up against the closed door to soak up the essence of Bucky. She leaned her head against the door, sending reassuring, loving signals back to him. At the very least, Bucky was alive and was in the compound, which wasn’t something she took lightly.

Y/N nearly tiptoed to the training gym, not wanting to stir the calm quiet of the compound this early in the morning. Nobody else was up and about quite yet, so she took to the punching bag, ignoring the boxing ring and sparring mats. Her session was punishing, vigorous. Painful. Sweat dripped from her temples, and her chest heaved with each choking breath. Her arms and legs ached from exertion, and her thin bandages hadn’t protected her knuckles from splitting. Y/N gritted her teeth and sent a powerful roundhouse to the bag’s left side, rattling the chains. Again.

She attacked the bag and repeated the drills she used to exercise better control over her abilities until she was physically and mentally drained. Y/N bent her knees and stood hunched over with her palms pressing into her thighs, panting. Stronger, faster, more powerful, more aware– she needed to be better.

Maybe if she were better, Bucky would be okay.

* * *

Tony leaned over his workbench, peering closely at the holo-screen. “FRIDAY, enlarge that by 10 percent for me. Give me a breakdown on the abrasion resistance up here.” He stepped back for a moment, arms folded, examining the image. “What do you think, kiddo?”

Y/N hummed, bent over her station in Tony’s lab. She had been immersed in whatever her newest project was for over an hour. She had made conversation and asked questions but gave nothing away about what she was working on. “Hang on, hang on. I’ve got it. I _just_ have to…” she trailed off as she bent event closer to her project, tweaking something small before she let out a satisfied smile and a relieved sigh. “Okay, what’s up?”

Tony motioned her over and pointed at the screen in front of him, watching her as her brows furrowed together. She approached the holo-screen and allowed her fingers to fly over blueprints, running various simulations. “Alright, FRI, check that bond strength for me?” She began murmuring to Tony as her hands moved. “Wait, it’s the _insulation_. Okay, we’ve got a dielectric over here. Maybe if we–”

Paternal pride swelled in his chest, and he brought a hand up to massage his heart that almost ached with it. Tony nodded, stepping up next to her, adjusting a few numbers. “Yeah, yeah, and we could–”

“Mmhm. Fishpaper?”

They worked in tandem, running new simulations, communicating through broken half-sentences that no one else (except maybe Harley and Peter who had ditched them for MJ today) would understand. “So, I have a little something for you,” Y/N mentioned, stepping back from Tony’s bench and walking back toward her station. She grabbed what appeared to be a circular patch of black cloth. She crossed her arms. “Your back’s been hurting.”

“Something for little old me?” He teased. “And my back is _fine_ , _piccolina._ I’m not old enough for chronic back pain yet,” he added, rolling his eyes.

“Just– it’s not a solution or anything, but it’s a little remedy. Lift your shirt a little, and let me put this on the base of your spine.”

Tony complied, muttering protests under his breath. As if he could deny her anything when just last night, she had practically called him her father.

“Alright, stay like that. I’m just gonna make a few adjustments,” she mumbled. There was a moment or two of silence before she spoke again, as nonchalant as ever. “I had sex with Steve last night. That’s why I went to Malibu.”

Tony jerked, nearly elbowing Y/N. “ _What?_ ”

“I slept with Steve last night. We’ve never done that before. I haven’t talked to him since.”

Tony rubs the back of his neck, almost sheepishly. Despite his proclivities and lifestyle choices when he was younger, he was uncomfortable, unsure of how to proceed. “This seems like girl talk,” he ventured cautiously. “Pepper–” She tapped his back twice, and he righted himself. The relief was almost instantaneous– he wasn’t sure whether it was cooling or heating or some mixture of the two, but it undid knots he forgot he even had. Tony nearly sighed out loud. His back hadn’t felt this good in years. “Hmm. Not bad, maybe it was hurting just a smidge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sent him a dry look that could rival his own. (Did he mention that he was so fucking proud of her?) “Thanks, _grandpa_.” Her posture deflated slightly, shoulders slumping. She tipped her head down, resolutely _not_ looking Tony in the eyes as she continued. “I’ll probably talk to Pepper at some point, get her opinion, but… I don’t know, when something happens to me, you and Peter are the first people I want to tell. When I mess up, you’re the first person I want to call. You’re–” She let out a surprised laugh as if she was just realizing for herself what she was now telling him. “You’re kind of my best friend.”

Tony was melting. He was certain that he had to be a puddle on the ground at this point because he had become so _goddamn soft._ Her _best friend,_ Jesus.

“You’re not saying anything. You always have something to say. Oh my god, Tony– okay, that was stupid. I’ll just– I can wait until Peter gets back or go talk to Pepper or–”

“Hey– no, kiddo. Pop a squat. Of course, we can talk about anything.” He patted the area on the bench next to him, but he could see that she was still hesitant. “Come on, we’re, like, _BFFs_ now!”

“ _Tony,_ ” she whined, but she slid into the seat next to him anyways. She fidgeted, not exactly nervous (for some reason, she was never really nervous about coming to Tony with something, even if she was in the wrong) but not wanting to make him more uncomfortable. “So…”

“Look, kiddo, the thing about sex is that feelings _always_ get caught up in it– whether that’s the intention or not. Is that what last night was? Do you have feelings for Steve?”

She paused, considering. Tony could see the gears turning in her head as she mulled over the question. She sighed, “I love him. Of course, I love Steve– how could I not? But, I don’t know… it’s never been romantic. It’s not brotherly, or whatever, because I think he’s crazy hot. Like all the time. Like I built a mental wall in my brain to block out how hot I find him so I can _function_ like a normal human being.”

Tony’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m not the picture of mental health or anything… but, even I know that’s definitely not healthy.”

She rolled her eyes again, as she always happens to be doing around Tony. “That’s not the point. Last night was just me being there for him, I think. I let him release all his pent emotions, but I was like a stopper for them. I was– I was vibrating when we were done, and it was all so much, so I just– I didn’t even think about it, and all of a sudden I was in my bunker in Malibu and I just _exploded_ , Tony.”

“Breathe, kid,” Tony consoled, giving her a concerned look. “So, what, you trashed your old bunker? At least it wasn’t a hotel room– but we could’ve handled that too. God knows Pepper has the experience. I probably hold the record for the sum total of property damage fines to my name.”

“No, Tony I _literally_ combusted. I broke down into particle form, tore the bunker apart, and reformed my molecular structure before I phased back. It’s not something we have to worry about, I swear. I have a handle on it. I just– I can’t bottle up all that emotion again like that. I can’t keep exploding.” Y/N paused. “But I want to be able to help him. And it– it helped me too, being with him.”

Tony fixed her with a look. “We will be talking about you breaking down into your molecular form.” After a nod of confirmation from her, he runs a hand through his hair and puffs out a small breath of air.

“That sounds like a pretty easy fix, then, kid. Do what makes both of you feel better. _Don’t_ be an emotional stopper, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. There’s no way that’s what Steve Rogers is looking for from you. Sex can be a comfort in a lot of ways, but that isn’t one of them; you have to let him feel what he feels, even if he’s transferring all that over to you.” He puts a hand on her shoulder. “How you’re feeling is important too, kiddo.”

“Wow, that was good. Probably as good as Pepper could do.”

Tony snorted, a small laugh escaping him. “Well, it helps to try to remember that–”

“That I’m not actually your daughter?” She interjects teasingly. Her eyes are troubled as she makes the comment, but her smile never falls.

Tony frowns, resisting the urge to flick her in the forehead, to grab her and shake her until she understands that in every way but by blood, she is his kid. But he doesn’t do any of that. He shakes his head. “ _No._ It helps to try to remember that if you had to lose your virginity to anyone, then Mr. Good and Righteous was probably one of the better choices. 1930s gentlemen and all that.”

She screwed up her face and scrunched up her nose, trying not to laugh. “ _What?_ Tony, that wasn’t–”

Tony slaps a hand over her mouth quickly, not wanting to hear the end of her sentence. “Let me have this, kid.”

He drops his hand only after she nods, her eyes lighting up with laughter.


End file.
